


I trust you'll take good care of him

by thefoxinthesweater



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Acting AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky is kind of an ass, Captain America is a musical and Steve Rogers plays the lead, Cheating, Fluff, Lots of Monty feels, Lots of Sex, M/M, Morning After, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, a tiny bit of violence, but it's kind of there, dark bucky barnes, emotional bucky, not really winter soldier, proposal, vague references to drugs maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefoxinthesweater/pseuds/thefoxinthesweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bucky Barnes was a fool, a goddamned fool, because there he was, sitting in the middle of the theater watching one of the song and dance numbers from the show that was quickly becoming one of the best off-Broadway hits in years, and all he could focus on was Captain America’s shoulder to waist ratio. Fuck, this is bad, he thought. Very, very bad."</p><p>Or, the one where Bucky, an aspiring actor, is in a happy, loving relationship with Monty... until he sees Steve Rogers on stage and just knows that he has to have him. He falls harder for Steve every day and he knows he has to tell Monty, but the longer he waits the harder it gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely could not have done this without the lovely Allyoop. She's fantastic. My Stucky cheerleader.

Bucky Barnes was a fool, a goddamned fool, because there he was, sitting in the middle of the theater watching one of the song and dance numbers from the show that was quickly becoming one of the best off-Broadway hits in years, and all he could focus on was Captain America’s shoulder to waist ratio. Fuck, this is bad, he thought. Very, very bad.

 He hadn’t walked to the theater that evening expecting to squirm in his seat as he tried to hide a hard-on for half the show, and certainly he hadn’t expected the lead to be that jaw-droppingly gorgeous, either. He had skimmed through the playbill halfheartedly before the first act, looking only for the names he already recognized and ignoring the rest. His expectations had not been high. The musical—and god how he had groaned when he learned that it was a musical—was set in the U.S. during World War II and focused on Captain America’s efforts to hunt down Hitler. Of course it did, he had groaned when Monty had suggested he go see it. But even an Englishman like Monty had enjoyed it, and he only ever wanted the best for Bucky, saying that the actors were quite talented. “Go see it. Maybe you’ll pick up on something that will help in your auditions,” Bucky remembered him saying. “We could go together. A date.” But Bucky had refused. He didn’t want his personal life becoming intertwined with his professional one, and if he were to see a show to learn from the acting, then he would go alone.

 Then Captain America stepped on stage, and Bucky had been engulfed in a warm wave of tranquility, unable to focus on anything other than the tall, very muscled, blonde man under the spotlight. His calls for Americans to buy war bonds and to “do their part” resonated through Bucky’s imagination, caressing him in a way his lover’s whispers had never managed to do. He imagined how his name would sound on the man’s lips, how it would sound being moaned as he explored Captain America’s body with his mouth. How was it that his voice could do so much damage, even when it was only shouting the scripted propaganda? The man’s muscles were sculpted marble, and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would feel like to have those arms wrapped tightly around him, not to mention the legs. Oh god, Bucky thought, the legs. His arousal grew with every movement the man in the red, white, and blue spandex uniform made, and by the end of the first act, he was short of breath and more than a little red in the face.

 As soon as the lights went up for intermission, Bucky opened up the program and found the name he was looking for: Steve Rogers. “Steve,” he mouthed soundlessly, trying the name on his lips for fit as he would a new jacket. And damn did it fit nicely. He read Steve’s bio, pausing after each phrase to unearth whatever subtext he could find. “He wishes to thank his mother and father for helping him to get to where he is today,” Bucky read, “and hopes that he has made them proud.” Alone, Bucky’s mind said immediately. His parents must be gone. No mention of a significant other. He stared at the photograph for the remainder of the intermission, grateful that his erection was slowly subsiding.

 Bucky’s heart jumped when Steve came out on stage again, and he felt a pang of guilt as he thought of Monty and the look he would have on his face if he knew about the thoughts Bucky was currently having about the star-spangled man strutting across the stage. Bucky’s eyes studied the curve of Steve’s ass, outlined perfectly in the ridiculous outfit. His eyes lingered on the shield Captain America held in front of him, searching for what was hidden behind it. Bucky licked his lips, admiring the golden man standing before him on the stage. I need him, he thought, I need him on top of me, fucking me until I can’t remember my own name. He blushed, thankful that the theater was dark as he let his imagination take control.  

 Bucky lingered after the show, waiting outside the back door of the theater for Steve to emerge. He watched as a number of USO girls left, followed by a half-dozen other actors, but Steve never came. Bucky leaned against the wall, zipping up his black leather jacket and wrapping his arms casually around his torso to keep warm. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining Steve’s arms wrapped around him instead, insulating him against the cool autumn nights. He wondered what Steve would smell like, what he would feel like pulled against his body so closely. It was nearing midnight by the time Bucky walked away, biting his lip in an attempt not to frown. He’s just some random guy, he tried reminding himself. He’s probably in a happily committed relationship already. What would he want with a kid like me?

 Bucky opened the door to the apartment he shared with Monty, expecting his boyfriend to be waiting up for him on the couch, smiling optimistically, but the room was dark. Bucky walked into the bedroom where he found Monty fast asleep, book in his hand and the light still on. He slipped into the bathroom, unable to shake the image of Steve Rogers from his mind as he brushed his teeth and showered. The hot water poured over his head as he tried to rid Steve’s jawline from his thoughts. His jawline, his shoulders, his waist, that ass, those legs, and his face. His goddamned beautiful face. His cock jumped at the thoughts, and he turned the water to an icy cold before stepping out and toweling himself dry. When he returned to their small bedroom wearing nothing but his boxers, Monty smiled up at him with sleepy eyes.

 “Thought you’d never come back.”

 Bucky frowned, biting his tongue to refrain from replying with I almost didn’t and instead gave as charming a smile as he could manage and breathed, “always.” He slipped under the sheets and rolled onto his side, and he could feel Monty leaning in close behind him.

 “What’s wrong?” Monty whispered, running his fingers along Bucky’s spine. “James?”

 “Tired,” Bucky replied. “Good show, though.” He shut his eyes and forced himself to stay still, playing possum until Monty finally turned out the light and began snoring softly. He couldn’t stop thinking about that man, whose blonde hair and blue eyes—he could tell even from the seventh row—had captivated his body and his mind. Steve Rogers, he thought. What have you done to me?

 “We should go out tonight,” Monty said the next morning as they were making coffee in the kitchen.

 Bucky shook his head. “I’m seeing Captain America again.” 

Monty’s expression fell for a moment before hiding it behind an amused smile. “Oh? You liked it that much?” Bucky could tell that he regretted suggesting the show.

He considered his words carefully. “It was good, yeah. But I didn’t really take as many notes as I should have. Auditions don’t take care of themselves, you know. I need to pick up on more of their techniques.”

“But it’s Friday… you like going out on Fridays,” Monty replied, not quite hiding the surprise from his voice.

Bucky stood up from their small table and wrapped his arms around Monty. This is what Bill had been talking about, he thought, reflecting on one of his director’s requests for him to be more convincing. “Monty…” he murmured, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck. “You know I’d do anything for you… and if you want to go out tonight, we’ll go out. We could go out after the show, even. It gets done early enough. I can go do my work, and then I could meet you somewhere.” He could see Monty’s disappointment fading, and Bucky tried to hide a grin as he took it one step further. “We can dance, have some drinks. Whatever you want, wherever you want. My only requirement is that when we’re done, we come back here and you let me fuck you—into the mattress, if you’re lucky—until you can’t move, until your voice is hoarse from begging so much for it.” He could feel Monty’s breath growing rapid. Bucky smiled seductively, turning Monty around to see how dark his eyes had become. “You won’t be able to walk for days after I’ve finished with you.” 

Monty cleared his throat. “James...”

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Bucky whispered huskily, and Monty moaned in agreement. Bucky grinned and spun away from him, grabbing his bag on the way out the door. “See you after the show.”

  

A half an hour before Captain America started, Bucky was settled comfortably into his second row seat, already imagining all the things he would have Steve do to his body if he could. He had been researching the man sporadically throughout the day. Before the audition, he had searched for general information: Steven Grant Rogers, age 30, hometown: Brooklyn, NY. Has starred in a number of on- and off-Broadway shows in New York…. He had chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if Steve would even be interested in someone younger like him, but he quickly dismissed the thought. No, six years wouldn’t make a difference because Steve Rogers probably didn’t even like men. At lunch after the audition, he had been able to find Steve’s Facebook page, and he frowned as he saw a number of pictures of the gorgeous man standing with a beautiful brunette lady. He scowled at the caption that read, “dancing with my best girl,” and stabbed at his food with unnecessary force. That had led him to search for “Steve Rogers + girlfriend” and “Steve Rogers + dancing.” His mood had lightened slightly when the searches had determined that the girl’s name was Peggy Carter and that she was not, apparently, involved with Steve in any sort of official romantic way--they were partners in a number of amateur swing dancing competitions. That had resulted in searches for “Steve Rogers + boyfriend” and “Steve Rogers + gay,” neither of which yielded anything more promising than half-interested speculation by theater-goers. After leaving a workshop led by a former director of his, Bucky had found himself searching for “Steve Rogers + shirtless” on the subway. He had tried very hard not to grin like a madman when two very pleasing results appeared. 

Now, as he waited for the show to begin, Bucky chewed his bottom lip, trying to determine the best way to make sure that, at the end of the night, he was in Steve’s bed and not at home with Monty. He felt slightly guilty for leading Monty on like that, but the overwhelming number of thoughts he was having about Steve quickly drowned out his conscience.

When Steve appeared on stage, Bucky nearly groaned in appreciation. He had forgotten just how tight the costume actually was, and he was truly appreciating the view. Steve’s voice lit fire to Bucky’s imagination, and he could picture himself with Steve all too easily. He tuned out everything else on stage except the star-spangled god, studying Steve’s every move and thinking about how it would apply to the actions he only hoped Steve would be doing to him that night. Take it slowly, he thought. At least buy the guy a drink before you throw yourself at his feet. The musical ended all too soon, and Bucky rushed outside to wait by the exit. He was determined to find Steve tonight, but as time passed and the theater emptied out, he grew less optimistic. His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Which club? ” Monty had written. Bucky scowled, typing back “Ultraviolet. Be there in 20,” before dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket. He remained rooted in place, his focus returning to the alleyway and the back door of the theater. From his spot, he could also see the main entrance: Steve Rogers would not go unnoticed tonight. But Bucky waited ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty, and when Monty texted, “Where are you?” he replied, “almost there.”

The corners of his eyes began to water, and Bucky gave a disgusted snort as he turned away from the theater to walk home. Fuck Monty and going to Ultraviolet, he thought as he shoved his hands in his pockets, and fuck Steve Rogers, too. He grumbled the whole walk home, ignoring two texts and a call from Monty before turning his phone off completely. Once inside, he took off his jacket and grabbed the first bottle of vodka his hands could reach and taking as large a swig of the liquid as he could. He made it to the bedroom and removed the rest of his clothes, except for the boxers, and drank another few swigs out of the bottle. This isn’t smart, he told himself, but he didn’t care. The liquid burned his throat on the way down, but Bucky didn’t care. Right now, he didn’t care about anything. He already felt his stomach protesting and his head swirling and he grinned as he threw back more of the bottle’s contents. His stomach quivered and he made it to the bathroom just in time before throwing up the dinner he had had before the show and dry heaving for five minutes more after his stomach was emptied. He groaned before pulling himself up again, flushing the toilet, and brushing his teeth. He chewed on a few strong mints as he stepped into the shower, using as much shampoo and body wash as he could to mask the smell of vodka and vomit. After managing to towel himself dry, he turned on the hairdryer and attempted to keep it pointed at his face for as long as possible. He put his hand to his forehead, smirking as he touched the hot, clammy skin. Not much time until Monty comes back, he thought, hoping that he would look and feel sufficiently sick for Monty to forget about any promises that he had made earlier. He hid the vodka in the back of the freezer and pulled the flu medicine and VapoRub out of the cabinet and brought them back to the bedroom. He was just climbing into bed when he heard the apartment door open.

“James?” Monty called. “Bucky?”

Bucky gave a pitiful moan from bed, and Monty’s face appeared instantly in the doorway. 

“Oh my god, darling, what’s wrong? You look awful,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed at Bucky’s side.

“Feel awful,” Bucky muttered, keeping his eyes half closed. He felt Monty’s soft hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up. When did this start? Should I take you to the doctor?”

Bucky groaned a ‘no,’ before pulling the blankets tightly around him. “S’cold.”

“When did you start feeling like this?” Monty asked as he went to retrieve a cool washcloth for Bucky’s forehead.

“This morning,” Bucky mumbled, closing his eyes and trying not to smile. It’s working, he thought, and really, I do feel like shit, so it’s not all fake. Just hope he doesn’t realize it’s from the vodka.

Monty returned with the washcloth and Bucky tried sitting up. “No no, stay down, it’s okay,” Monty murmuered.

“But I… I wanted to….I’m sorry,” Bucky murmured, running a weak hand along the waist of Monty’s jeans.

Monty’s eyes widened. “No, oh god no, my dear, don’t worry yourself. Although I do wish you would have told me instead of having me wait at the club forever on my own.”

“Sorry…” he mumbled. “I was starting to feel okay and wanted to go, and then all of the sudden I just felt like shit...” Bucky warned himself against saying too much for fear that Monty would realize that he was drunk, but the other man seemed too concerned about the “fever” to notice. “Thought maybe you could get someone to buy you a drink. I didn’t want to ruin your evening.”

“It’s okay,” Monty replied quietly. “It’s fine. We can go another time. And you know I don’t want drinks from anyone but you. Sleep now, it’s fine. It’s all fine.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, smiling internally as his thoughts returned to Steve and began planning his weekend around trying to find the star-spangled man. Monty slipped into bed beside him and wrapped his arm around his waist, and Bucky leaned into the touch, imagining that it was Steve Rogers instead.

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Bucky woke up to the smell of pancakes. He walked into the kitchen and dry swallowed Advil before turning to Monty. “What’s this?”

“I thought maybe you’d be able to stomach them…” Monty replied, smiling hopefully. “And I thought they’d make you feel better.”

Bucky’s face remained serious for a moment before he threw on a smile. “Thanks. I am feeling a bit better.”

“Maybe we could stay in and watch films today if you’re still not feeling well?”

Bucky knew he should have been touched by Monty’s consideration, but since seeing Steve, the other man’s kindness and love had been suffocating him. “Don’t you have dinner with your colleagues tonight?” He hoped Monty would be out of the house, giving him time to try to find Steve again.

Monty nodded. “Yeah, that’s at 7, but I’ll stay here if you’d rather.”

“No, no, not at all,” Bucky replied. “We’ll still have time for movies during the day.”

 

They sat on the couch for the rest of the morning watching Netflix, with Bucky starting up a fake coughing fit every time Monty tried to cuddle too closely. In the afternoon, Monty put on his favorite tv show and Bucky took a nap on the couch next to him, only waking up when Monty went to change for dinner. While Monty was changing, Bucky took out his phone and searched for images of Steve again. Many were promotional pictures for Captain America, and his appreciation for the tight outfit only grew. 

“I won’t stay out too late,” he said, kissing the top of Bucky’s head as he made his way to the door.

“Don’t come back early on my account,” Bucky replied sweetly. “Have fun.”

 

As soon as Monty was out of the apartment, Bucky jumped into action, showering as quickly as he could and searching his closet for the perfect clothes, hoping that tonight would be the night. He made it to the theater right on time, buying a ticket at the door and taking in every inch of Captain America’s body during the show. But Steve was nowhere to be found after the show, nor was he the following Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. “A college friend called and wanted to have lunch,” Bucky told Monty on Sunday. On Tuesday, he lied and said he had an audition that night, and Monty raised an eyebrow in reply. Wednesday, Bucky said he was on the callback list, and when he came home, Monty was finishing up a phone call.

 “How was your audition?” he asked, but his voice didn’t hold the kind tone it usually did.

“Went great,” Bucky said, grinning before pulling out a plate and heating up food.

“Oh really?” Monty asked, leaning against the counter. “Because I’m actually rather good friends with Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?”

“The assistant director, Bucky. I just rang him. He said you weren’t there.”

“What did you say?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“You weren’t at the audition yesterday, and you weren’t at the callbacks today.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed as he studied Monty’s face. “I guess it didn’t go so well, then, if he couldn’t even remember my fucking name.” He took his food out of the microwave and ate silently on the couch, avoiding Monty’s critical stare.

“Is there someone else?” Monty asked quietly after Bucky had finished eating. His voice showed no anger, and Bucky hated him for it.

He chewed his bottom lip. “No, no. I’m not with anyone else,” he said, and he wished he were lying.

 

Bucky didn’t even try making up a cover for his whereabouts on Thursday evening, and after still having seen no sign of Steve after the shows, he found the director after Friday’s performance. “James Buchanan,” he said, extending his hand and throwing on his best imitation of Monty’s accent. “I’m a casting agent and my director is very interested in Mr. Rogers for a film. He’s already been in contact with Steve’s agent, but I wanted to talk to you about him, if you’ve got just a moment.” The director, Bucky was almost certain, was very much interested in him, so he put on his best bedroom eyes, licked his lips, and added, “please.”

“Absolutely,” the man agreed.

Bucky smiled his thanks and wrapped a casual arm over the man’s shoulders, brushing his fingers gently across his arm. “Is Steve easy to get along with?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested. “Does he work well with the rest of the cast? Does he take your suggestions well? Is he responsible?”

The director’s answers painted a glowing picture of Steve, and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from asking if it would be possible to meet with Mr. Rogers personally, either before or after the show tomorrow, to extend his congratulations on such an incredible performance.

“He arrives very early on show days,” the director replied. “But if you come by around four, he should have time for a quick word. And if you ever want to talk to me...”

“I’ll be in touch,” he murmured before checking his watch.“Thank you so much for your time,” Bucky said, smiling as charmingly as possible. He took the man’s hand, shaking it for a little too long and left the theater, coming home in a much better mood than previous days.

 

Bucky’s stomach churned nervously throughout the day on Saturday. I just need to stop thinking about him for one goddamned minute, he thought, but it was impossible. He couldn’t stop imagining Steve’s body and how it would feel pressed heatedly against his own. He stood in front of the closet for a half an hour, analyzing each piece of clothing for it’s ability to make Steve swoon, settling on dark jeans, black boots, his black leather jacket and a grey t-shirt. Monty hadn’t said much the past few days, but as he walked out the door, he commented, “you look like you’re going out on a date.”

 “I’m going to go see a show and talk to one of the actors beforehand. I think I could learn a lot from him.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Monty replied, failing to hide the bitterness in his voice. Bucky thought he saw tears starting to form in his eyes, but he didn’t stay long enough to know for sure.

He met the director promptly at four (Did I even bother to learn his name? he wondered), and judging by the look on the man’s face, Bucky looked good. He walked backstage with the man—remembering his fake English accent at the last minute—until they came to a dressing room, where he saw Steve Rogers sitting in a chair, sketching. “Thanks,” he murmured quietly to the director, implying that he wanted to be alone with Steve, and the man, though disappointed, left them.

Bucky’s heart fluttered when Steve looked up from his sketchpad, his surprised look changing to a smile almost instantly.

“Bucky Barnes,” he said, offering his hand and dropping the ridiculous accent, replacing it with his natural Brooklyn charm.

“Steve Rogers,” he replied, standing and shaking Bucky’s hand. “I understand you’re some sort of casting agent?”

 Bucky dropped his eyes to the floor and smiled sheepishly. “No,” he said, “I’m an actor, actually. I’ve been going to a lot of auditions but I haven’t been having much luck in finding a job in a bigger show. I saw your performance here, though…” Bucky tried stumbling over his words in way that he thought might flatter Steve. “I was so impressed with your work, just amazed by it. And I hate to bother you, especially before a show, but I tried waiting to see you after and never did. I just wanted to know how you do it. What’s your secret?” He looked up at Steve from under his eyelashes and noticed that the other man was blushing.

“Well, I uh…thanks,” Steve said, giving a small smile. “I actually saw you waiting outside, but I always just thought you were waiting to find a USO girl.”

“What?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his voice low, but not succeeding as well as he would have liked. “You saw me?” Steve chuckled, and Bucky thought his laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. 

“My apartment is right behind the theater. There’s another door on the other side, so I never had to walk by you. But yeah, a lot of guys will try to wait to pick up a gal after the show.”

Bucky smiled, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “No, I just wanted to tell you how highly I think of your work, how absolutely amazing you are on stage.”

Steve blushed again. “What have you been in?”

Bucky could tell by the enthralled look in Steve’s eyes that his plan was working, so he told him about the smaller shows he had been in but that he hadn’t been cast in anything bigger yet. “I think I need to be more open with myself,” he said, whispering the words like they were filthy. “I thought I could learn a lot from watching you, and I have.”

“I’m glad,” Steve replied, suddenly finding his mouth very dry. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am today, and hopefully things will keep going in the same direction.”

Bucky could feel an awkward pause approaching, so he gently touched Steve’s arm and gestured to the notebook. “Talented in more ways than one, I see.” 

“They’re just sketches,” Steve said, trying to keep his face from becoming too red. “It helps me focus before a show.”

Bucky withdrew his arm. “Oh, I’m sorry. I  completely forgot. I didn’t mean to take up your time. I should go.” A look of disappointment crossed Steve’s face, giving Bucky the confidence to continue. “But if you’d maybe want to get drinks later tonight…”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he gulped as Bucky looked up at him with smoldering eyes, chewing his bottom lip in uncertainty. “Yeah,” Steve breathed. “I would like that.”

Bucky smiled seductively, drawing Steve’s eyes to his reddened lips. “Meet me out back?” Steve nodded wordlessly, and Bucky slipped a card with his phone number into his shirt pocket. “Break a leg,” he murmured, lightly grabbing Steve’s wrist for a moment before leaving the room.

Bucky could feel Steve staring after him as he left, and he grinned as he walked to a nearby restaurant to have dinner before the show. As he ate, he thought of just how real Steve had been in person, how he had seen wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and slight shadows under his eyes. His eyes had been even bluer in person, twinkling at Bucky’s fumbled words, and he had smelled fresh, warm, inviting. Bucky could imagine himself running his lips along Steve’s neck, down to his collarbone before venturing to his chest, taking in his scent and the softness of his skin. His phone vibrated as he walked back to the theater. He arrived in his seat only a few minutes early this time, and was soon greeted with Steve’s chiseled body onstage. He watched the way he moved, the way he spoke. After seeing the show eight times already, he felt he knew Captain America’s character inside out. Now I just need to get to know Steve this well, he thought. After the final curtain, he joined the rest of the audience in a standing ovation and he smiled promisingly when Steve’s eyes met his own. He made his way out towards the back of the theater, wondering how long it would be until Steve appeared. He chewed a mint and ran a hand through his hair, unable to remember the last time he had been so concerned with his appearance.

“Did you like it?” Came a voice from behind him, and suddenly Bucky was face to face with the blonde god, who was dressed casually in jeans and a blue plaid shirt.

Bucky tilted his head and gave a small smile. “Not your best performance. But seeing as I’ve seen the show nine times in the last week and a half, I’d say I’m more perceptive than most.”

Steve chuckled before shifting his gaze to his feet. “Well, I uh… may have been a little distracted.” He met Bucky’s eyes briefly before turning away again. “So, drinks, huh?”

“If you’re up for it,” Bucky replied quietly, lightly touching Steve’s forearm. “I don’t want to keep you too long if you’ve got a matinee tomorrow.”

“I have time for a drink or two,” Steve said as they started walking. “Where do you want to go?”

Bucky made sure Steve was looking when he licked his lips. “Do you have any favorites around here?”

Steve smiled. “Sure, I know a place. Let’s go.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, I've just realized that the italics aren't showing up in any of the chapters. As much as I would like to fix them now, it shall be a project for another day. My apologies.

The hole-in-the-wall bar Steve picked out was quieter than the crowded, loud clubs Bucky was accustomed to, but it was near Steve’s apartment and gave them a better setting in which to talk to each other.

“I know it might seem dull,” Steve said, “but they’ve got a rum punch that’ll knock you on your ass.”

Bucky raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Rum punch? Really? Captain America drinks rum punch?”

Steve grinned. “Not unless I’m here. And I’m serious. Five rums and a bit of something non-flammable, but you can’t even tell. You could drink a pitcher of it without realizing what happened until you try to stand up.”

“Well,” Bucky started, running a hand through his hair. “Your bar, your drinks. I’ll have what you’re having.”

After one rum punch each, they were sitting on barstools exchanging horror stories about their theater experiences. Two drinks in, Steve was telling Bucky about how he had really wanted to be an artist, but that he had lost his inspiration and could now only draw little sketches and doodles. After three drinks, Steve smiled and said that he would love to draw Bucky’s face. “It’s beautiful.” Bucky could feel his heart pounding, but he knew it wasn’t the alcohol. Four drinks into the night, he leaned in towards Steve, saying, “I could watch you in that Captain America suit all day long.” He flushed a deep red, and Steve’s eyes widened before he, too, blushed. “Damn, I shouldn’t have said that,” Bucky mumbled sheepishly, pulling his hand off of the table. Steve put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first person to have said that. Apparently the suit is quite popular.” After five rum punches, Bucky’s hand made it to Steve’s knee, slowly travelling upwards every time Steve made him laugh. Steve didn’t seem bothered by it, so Bucky took a gamble and moved it towards the inside of his thigh. Steve’s eyes widened, though he said nothing, and Bucky noticed the growing bulge in the other man’s pants. After six drinks, Steve said, “I should really go. It’s getting late and I’ve had too much to drink already. I’d like to avoid being hungover tomorrow, if possible.” Bucky looked up at him with eyes that were part pleading him to stay, part daring him to go. His head was buzzing, but there was no way he would let Steve go back to his apartment alone. Steve took one glance at Bucky’s parted lips and decided to stay just a while longer. They had one more round of drinks before paying the tab and leaving. As they stepped out into the cool autumn air, Bucky leaned on Steve’s shoulder and said, “At least let me walk you home. It’s in the direction of my place.” He could tell that Steve was tipsier than he was, even though the blonde man was larger, and he coyly wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist. Neither of them said much as they walked back to Steve’s apartment, and Bucky grew shy when they reached his door, hoping not to appear too eager to be invited inside.

“I, uh...I had a really good time tonight, Bucky,” Steve said, smiling as he fumbled for his key in his pocket.

Bucky’s heart dropped. This is it, he thought, I’ve lost my chance.

“And uh...I don’t ever do this, really…” Steve stuttered, “but… I mean… what I’m trying to say is, if you want to come in...and not even necessarily to… if you don’t want…”

Bucky shut him up by bringing his lips to Steve’s, finally tasting the mouth he had been staring at all night long. Steve made a small noise of surprise before eagerly returning the kiss, wrapping his arm around Bucky and pulling him in tightly. When they broke apart, Bucky smiled, looking up at Steve with desire and saying, “Of course I’ll come in.”

Steve unlocked the door and they made it up to the second floor. As soon as they were inside the apartment, Steve had Bucky pinned against the wall, grinding their hips together and making Bucky moan in appreciation. Bucky was surprised by the change in Steve’s fervor. He had expected Steve to be more shy and innocent, though he certainly didn’t mind if Steve’s dominant side took over behind closed doors. He moved his mouth to Steve’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting lightly. Steve inhaled sharply before lifting Bucky up, taking a few steps and sitting him on the kitchen counter. He pulled away from Bucky’s eager lips just long enough enough to unzip his jacket and throw it aside. Bucky growled impatiently, running his hand through the back of Steve’s hair and pulling them closer again.

“I don’t usually do this after first dates,” Steve whispered.

Bucky grinned mischievously. “You call that a date?”

Steve blushed and shook his head.

“Then honey, you’re fine,” Bucky replied, his voice dropping an octave. “But I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now, it won’t be fine.”

Steve’s blue eyes sparkled as he captured Bucky’s lips with his own again, sliding a hand underneath Bucky’s shirt to feel the soft skin below. Bucky rolled his hips forward, trying for as much friction with Steve’s erection as he could manage. Steve lifted Bucky’s t-shirt over his head and explored his chest with his lips, kissing and sucking and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. Bucky attempted to unbutton Steve’s shirt, but the alcohol combined with the lust made it just too damn hard to focus and he let out a frustrated growl. Steve chuckled and pulled away for a moment, allowing Bucky time to breathe while undoing the buttons. Bucky slid the shirt off of Steve’s shoulders and ran his hands across the sculpted muscle below.

“Where… um… where do you want to do this?” Steve managed to ask, and Bucky felt a wave of heat rush to his cock as Steve oscillated between exuding raw dominance and innocent virtue.

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip before saying, “You seem like a bed kinda guy to me.” When Steve nodded, Bucky leaned in and whispered, “ever done it anywhere else?”

Steve blushed harder. “No.”

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “Bed. Now. But if you ever invite me back, I’d really love for you to fuck me over this counter.”

Desire flashed in Steve’s eyes as he lifted Bucky up, carrying him into the bedroom and gently lowering him onto the mattress before climbing on top of him, bringing his mouth to Bucky’s nipple. Bucky moaned underneath him, moving his hands to Steve’s belt buckle.

“Off,” he demanded, looking up at Steve from under his dark eyelashes. Steve could only nod in reply, removing his shoes and jeans as quickly as possible while Bucky did the same, taking the condom and lube out of his pocket and setting them on the bed. When they were in nothing but their boxers, Bucky flipped their positions and straddled Steve, letting his curious hands roam Steve’s body and noting how Steve responded to his touch in each place. Steve’s breathing grew rapid as Bucky’s hands neared his straining erection, and he lifted his hips off the bed, trying to meet his touch. Finally, Bucky’s wandering hands cupped his cock and Steve moaned, “Oh, Buck.”

Bucky smiled at the sound of his name and how naturally it seemed to slip past Steve’s parted lips. He gently tugged the boxers down, freeing Steve’s long, hard cock and he couldn’t help himself from saying, “God, Steve, I need you inside of me.” He wrapped a firm hand around Steve’s erection for emphasis, and he could feel his own cock aching in anticipation.

“Bucky,” Steve breathed, running his hand along his back and hooking his thumb under the waistband of his boxers. He slipped a hand underneath the fabric, running his hand over the smooth curve of his ass.

Bucky gasped, suddenly all too aware that he was no longer in control, even if he was on top. He couldn’t be in control, not with Steve’s body exuding power the way it was. He felt Steve’s fingers slowly spread his cheeks apart, teasing the entrance to his sensitive hole.

“Steve,” he gasped, moaning and writhing under his touch. Steve looked up at him, and Bucky saw nothing but desire in his eyes. He felt Steve’s other hand pulling his boxers off completely and suddenly Steve had one hand around his cock and another playing at his entrance and it was, “too much...too good...can’t handle...oh god...oh Steve...fuck...fuck.”

Steve took Bucky’s incoherent words as motivation to continue and he slowly began to pump Bucky’s cock, already wet with precum, with one hand as he pushed a finger into the smaller man’s tight hole with the other.

Bucky was torn between rolling his hips forward and pushing his cock further into Steve’s left hand or rolling them back to meet Steve’s right. Everything about him is perfect, he thought. Steve Rogers is perfect. He heard Steve fumbling with the lube and a moment later felt a second finger pushing into him. He groaned at the intrusion, but soon he was fucking himself on Steve’s fingers, unable to get enough of the man. But he stopped himself, pulling himself away from Steve’s prodding fingers and instead lowering his mouth to Steve’s throbbing cock, swallowing him whole without warning.

“Mmmmmph, Buck…” Steve’s hand moved to the back of Bucky’s head, tugging lightly on his hair. Bucky began bobbing his head up and down, oddly thankful for the practice he had had with others before. I have to be perfect for Steve, he thought, pulling away for a quick breath before swallowing his cock again. Steve deserves perfection. It was obvious by the noises Steve was making that he hadn’t had any previous lovers as talented as him, and Bucky grinned at the thought.

“Please…” Steve managed to say as he watched Bucky eagerly suck his cock. “I want to fuck you...so badly.” Bucky groaned as the words spilled out of Steve’s mouth. “I want you to take every inch of me inside you. I want to fuck you until the only word you know is my name.”

Bucky couldn’t believe that the filth he was hearing was coming from Steve’s mouth, but he swallowed Steve’s cock one last time in agreement before pulling away. He reached for the condom, quickly tearing the wrapper open and surprising Steve by rolling it onto his cock with his mouth.

“God, Bucky,” Steve breathed before flipping them so that he was on top. He settled himself towards the foot of the bed, lifting Bucky’s legs to rest on his shoulders as he slicked his fingers with lube. He pressed one and then two into Bucky’s tight hole, twisting and scissoring and making him come apart.

Bucky moaned in appreciation, short gasps escaping his lips as he tried to keep his breath as he impaled himself on Steve’s fingers, never able to get enough of the other man. “Please, Steve. Please, I need you inside of me.”

“I already am,” Steve said, grinning cheekily.

“No,” Bucky groaned. “I need your cock. Inside of me. Now.”

Steve removed his fingers and slicked his thick cock with lube. Bucky watched him, mesmerized, as he positioned himself at Bucky’s entrance. He pushed in slowly, and Bucky saw stars as he felt himself come apart at the seams for Steve, trying to remember to breathe as his body gave way to every inch of Steve’s hard length.

Finally, Bucky thought. “Steve, yes,” he moaned, taking in the view of the chiseled man leaning over him.  

Steve began to thrust slowly, relishing the feel of Bucky’s tightness around him. Bucky looked up at him, his eyes clouded with lust, and Steve thrusted harder. Bucky began matching his movements, angling his hips to allow Steve to drive in deeper each time. He licked his lips and bit his bottom lip, enjoying Steve’s moan in response and the quickened pace that followed. He continued to meet Steve’s thrusts, each one faster, deeper, harder than the last as they moaned each other’s names. Bucky reached his hand down to his own cock, which was aching with neglect, but Steve swatted his hand away.

“Let me,” he said, and Bucky could only nod in reply as Steve took his erection into his hand and began working it as he continued pounding his own length into Bucky.

The warm pressure of Steve’s hand brought Bucky dangerously close to orgasm, and he moaned Steve’s name over and over. Steve’s thrusts grew erratic, feverishly pushing into Bucky with every ounce of strength he had. Bucky had never had it like this before: Monty’s sweet words and loving caresses didn’t stand a chance against the way Bucky felt when he was with Steve.

Orgasm washed over Bucky and he cried Steve’s name, spilling himself across Steve’s muscled chest. One look at Bucky’s flawless, writhing body underneath him was enough to make Steve thrust even harder and faster, and soon he was coming inside of Bucky, relishing in the younger man’s moans of pleasure. He collapsed on top of Bucky, bringing their lips together in a sweet, exhausted kiss.

Mission accomplished, Bucky thought as Steve pulled out of him, grinning. Bucky watched as Steve rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom to throw away the condom. He returned with a damp cloth, cleaning them up as best he could. Bucky leaned off the bed to grab his phone out of his jeans pocket, and stared at the screen: three messages and two missed calls from Monty. "Just let me know you're safe," read the last one. He frowned, trying to ignore the guilt building inside of him as he typed back, “Safe.” Pausing, he listened to what sounded like rain outside and added, “Sorry--crashing on Jim’s couch. Don’t want to walk home in the rain.” Quickly, he sent off a text to Jim, saying, “If Monty asks, I crashed at your place.”

He felt Steve’s hand on his shoulder and smiled at him, throwing the phone back onto the pile of clothes on the floor and settling himself against Steve’s body under the sheets. Steve draped a light hand over Bucky’s body and they both drifted off to sleep.

**  
  
**

Bucky woke the next morning to the sound of pencil scratching lightly against paper, and as he opened his eyes he was met with a view of Steve sitting up in bed, bathed in the sunlight with a sketchpad in his lap.

What a sight to wake up to, Bucky thought, giving Steve a goofy grin. I could get used to this.

“Good morning,” Steve said, smiling.

“Yes it is,” he replied, propping himself up on his elbow. “Have you been up long?”

Steve shook his head. “Just long enough to draw this,” he said, showing Bucky the sketch. “I was afraid you’d be gone when I woke up.”

Bucky took the sketchpad. If I were more attractive, it would be like looking into a mirror, he thought, stunned by the detail in the face that stared back at him. “Steve, this is… I mean, I’d say it’s beautiful but I don’t want to sound like a narcissist.” Steve chuckled. “I wish I looked this good,” Bucky added, handing the sketchbook back to Steve.

“You look better,” Steve told him, setting his work on the nightstand and leaning over to kiss Bucky. “A thousand times better than I could ever capture on paper.”

Bucky returned the kiss. When he finally pulled away, he asked, “Did you really think I’d be gone?”

Steve lowered his gaze and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Bucky’s voice was nearing a whisper.

Steve looked into his eyes and said, “Because I thought you were too good to be real. I thought there had to be a catch somewhere, that you had to have a flaw. I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to have you stay.”

Bucky smiled back, trying to push his thoughts of Monty as far away as possible. “You deserve better than me, Stevie. I’m not perfect, but there’s no way in hell I’d leave before you woke up.”

Steve’s eyes lit up with hope and he pulled Bucky in for another kiss. “In that case, would you like to have brunch before I leave for the theater?”

Bucky nodded. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” Steve replied. “Meaning we have time for a long shower, if you’d like.”

Bucky groaned at the thought, nodding his head. “Feeling hungover?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Steve replied.

“Good,” Bucky purred, rolling out of bed and practically dragging Steve into the bathroom. They spent a half an hour under the hot water, spending a few minutes massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps before Bucky dropped to his knees in front of Steve.

“Oh god, Buck, what are you--” Steve gasped as Bucky took his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the slit as Steve grew harder. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, running his hands through Bucky’s wet hair.

Bucky removed his mouth just long enough to murmur, “want to,” before going back to work, bobbing his head under the warm water until he felt Steve’s hands tightening in his hair and his cum shooting into the back of his throat. Bucky swallowed it all eagerly before Steve pulled him to his feet and kissed him. Steve began to lower himself to return the favor, but Bucky stopped him, bringing him back up to eye-level. Steve gave him a concerned look, but Bucky shook his head.

“When’s the next time I can see you?” Bucky asked, running his hands over Steve’s wet body.

Steve smiled. “I’m off work tomorrow. I need to run a few errands, but I should be free most of the day.”

Bucky grinned. “Then I want to wait. I want to think about what you’ll do to me. I want to think about it the rest of today and all of tomorrow morning. And besides, we ought to get going if you’re going to be on time.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s lips before moving to his neck and collarbone. “If you’re sure,” he murmured.

Bucky reached to turn off the water. “I won’t be sure for very long if you keep doing that.”

**  
  
**

On his way home, Bucky tried to think of a word other than “perfect” to describe his time with Steve. Brunch had been incredible, though he had mainly paid attention to the company, hardly giving the food a second thought. They had joked around lightheartedly, and Steve had smiled giddily the entire time. He had learned that Steve liked orange juice better than coffee, french toast better than waffles but pancakes best of all, and eating muffins upside-down. Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow: Steve had promised to meet him at noon and spend the rest of the day doing “whatever you want.” Bucky had a few plans already, one of which included Steve’s kitchen counter and a bottle of lube, and he could only imagine what else Steve would want to do on his day off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest will be up tomorrow, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

His time with Steve had put him in such a good mood that he didn’t dread returning to his apartment and Monty at all. I’ll tell Monty soon enough, he thought, but not today. He unlocked the door and walked in, expecting Monty to start yelling as soon as he saw him. But no. Instead, Monty was curled up asleep on the couch, book in hand and floor lamp still on, almost empty cup of tea on the table beside him. He opened his eyes when he heard Bucky close the door, and Bucky could tell even from a distance that the other man’s eyes were bloodshot. Neither of them said a word for what felt like too long to Bucky, until Monty finally said, “I was worried sick about you.”

Bucky crossed the floor quickly, kneeling in front of Monty’s place on the couch and taking his hands into his own. “I know. I’m so sorry,” he said, and this time he meant it, though for different reasons.

“No,” Monty said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you were lying to me, so I called Jim. He said he saw you walking home in the rain and wouldn’t allow it.”

“I tried telling him that I was fine, that it was only a little water,” Bucky replied, hating how easily the lie slipped from his lips. How can I make him stop worrying? How can I make it better? He leaned in, kissing Monty on the cheek before saying, “I’m feeling all better today though. I think that nasty cold or flu--or whatever the hell it was--is finally gone.”

Monty gave a polite smile, still trying to hide his irritation . “Good.”

“If only there were a way to make up for my awful behavior lately....” Bucky added dramatically, ensuring that Monty understood his intentions.

Monty’s eyes widened for a moment before he said, “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to have a lie down because I waited up half the night for you. We can figure things out after that.”

Bucky mock saluted him as Monty left for the bathroom, and he went to the closet to find a change of clothes. Not that I’ll be in them long, he thought wryly. Sure, doing this with Monty might not be the best idea, but it’ll make him feel better, happier. And I really don’t like seeing him unhappy. I need to tell him. I need to tell him soon. But I’ll give him today.

A few minutes later, Monty came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, and Bucky pushed him roughly against the wall, trapping Monty’s body with his own and laying kisses to his neck and collarbone.

“James,” Monty breathed, and Bucky could feel all of the disappointment leaving the other man’s body. He brought their mouths together, using his tongue to explore a part of Monty he had come to know so well. A year, Bucky thought. It’ll be a year next weekend. He tried to stop the thought that followed—it would have been a year next weekend—but he couldn’t ignore it. He was growing accustomed to the constant feeling of guilt in his stomach, and he tried shoving it aside as he focused on Monty’s body. I need to make him feel good. One last time.

“Oh, James,” Monty moaned as Bucky’s hands went lower, skimming lightly across his hips and playing at the edge of the towel. He ground their hips together and, encouraged by Monty’s throaty pleas for more, brought his hand to cup his hardened cock, barely concealed by the towel. Monty gasped, and Bucky gave a mischievous grin before letting the towel fall to the floor. He ran a hand up Monty’s length, relishing in the noises he was eliciting from him. “James…darling, please, if you’re just teasing me…”

“Nothing teasing about this,” Bucky growled in reply, looking Monty up and down with hungry eyes.

He was pushing Monty down onto the bed, covering his body in kisses. Don’t think of Steve.

He was taking Monty’s cock into his mouth, swallowing inch by inch until Monty begged for him to stop before he came. Don’t think of Steve.

He was fucking Monty into the mattress, hard and fast like he had promised, each time thrusting harder than the last. Don’t think of Steve.

He was pounding into Monty as the other man cried his name when he came, and he was focusing on not saying the one name he wanted to say as he spilled himself into Monty’s eager body. Don’t think of Steve.

He was spooning the now sleeping Monty, eyes wide open, throat dry, and all too well aware of what he had done. Don’t think of Steve.

Steve was all Bucky could think of the next morning as he went about getting ready for his day with Steve. Meet at my place, then lunch, then an adventure? Steve had texted him that morning. He had rolled over in bed and answered Absolutely. What do you have planned?, hoping that Monty wouldn’t ask about his grin. After what they had done yesterday, Monty had been extraordinarily happy the rest of the day, and it was all Bucky could do to not ruin his mood with a few simple words. He needs to know, Bucky thought as he got out of bed, searching for something in his closet for Steve to take off later. Tonight, I’ll tell him tonight.

“Have a wonderful day, darling,” Monty said, pulling Bucky into a kiss as he was about to leave for work.

“You too,” Bucky replied, barely mustering a smile.

“I love you,” Monty whispered in his ear, gently running his fingers along the back of Bucky’s neck.

“I love you too,” he echoed, hoping Monty wouldn’t be able to hear the hollowness in his voice.

“Will you be home in time for dinner?”

Bucky frowned. “I don’t know.”

Monty nodded. “Okay then. Have fun.”

Bucky wanted to say you too, but he knew that with what he had to tell Monty tonight, it would not be a fun day for him.

On the way to Steve’s apartment, Bucky tried convincing himself that he was not absolutely in love with the dashing blonde, but as soon as Steve opened the door, Bucky knew he was hopeless. Steve welcomed him into the apartment, which looked different in the daytime, flooded with sunlight. He noticed an easel set up by the window that he would have sworn wasn’t there the night before, but I was drunk, so maybe it was.

Bucky didn’t quite know what to say. He’d never been in this position before. All his previous relationships had been either friendships turned more over time or one-night stands he never saw again. He didn’t know what Steve was except the love of my fucking life, but how do I tell him that without sounding bat-shit crazy? and he didn’t know what Steve thought of him. He tried telling himself that he wasn’t nervous, not at all, but he was startled when Steve put a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Everything okay, Buck?” Steve’s warm eyes were laced with concern.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah,” he said, smiling. Because when he looked at Steve, everything was okay. “What’s the plan for today?”

Steve grinned. “Depends on how much time you’re willing to put up with me.”

He looked Steve up and down without subtlety, murmuring, “For you, I have all day.” A blush crept up onto Steve’s cheeks, and Bucky swore to himself to make it happen more often, because Steve was beautiful.

He led Bucky into the living room. “There’s a great café up the street just a couple of blocks,” he said, unable to stop smiling as he looked at Bucky. “And then I thought maybe we could go up to Central Park after.”  
  
Bucky raised an eyebrow.   
  
“There’s a… uh….there’s a band,” Steve said. “A big band, I mean…playing forties stuff…and I know that’s probably not your thing, but… but uh…”  
  
Bucky stopped Steve’s stammering by pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Steve moaned slightly and returned the kiss eagerly. “It’s perfect,” Bucky said after they pulled apart.   
  
“Good,” Steve said, pulling Bucky in closer by the waist and running a hand through the back of his hair. “And then, if you have time, we could have dinner and come back here,” he murmured into Bucky’s ear.

Bucky stared hungrily back up at Steve. “I’m not so sure you’ll have to wait that long to have me,” he replied, biting his lower lip.

Steve growled something incomprehensible and tackled Bucky to the couch, straddling the smaller man’s body and bringing their faces close.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky looked up. “You going to kiss me or what, punk?”   
  
Steve shook his head, but nothing could wipe the smile off his face. “Jerk,” he whispered in reply before kissing him gently. He kissed a trail down Bucky’s neck, going as far as he was able before moving his hands underneath Bucky’s shirt and pushing it up.   
  
“Steve…”  
  
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night,” Steve replied, his blue eyes dark and hungry. He peppered kisses across Bucky’s chest and down to his navel. “I thought about what I wanted to do to you, what I wanted you to do to me.” He ground their hips together and Bucky could feel Steve’s growing erection against his own. Steve pulled away slightly. “I thought I could get by on my own, but then you came along.”  
  
“You haven’t even known me 48 hours,” Bucky said, mostly in an attempt to convince himself that no, I’m not in love with Steve. No, not at all. It’s lust. It’s infatuation. It’s nothing. But he couldn’t help it, because goddamn it, he loved Steve, and he had since the moment he laid eyes on him.

Steve’s hands were everywhere, running along his chest, his waist, pushing his hands under his jeans before he could even moan, “yes, Steve. Yes.” Bucky wanted to flip their positions, wanted to be on top of Steve so he could get him out of those damn clothes, but Steve was pressing him into the couch and he was trapped.

Suddenly, Steve stopped and grinned. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“What?” Bucky gasped, not believing him until Steve began to move off of him. “Steve, what… what the hell?”

Steve couldn’t stop smiling. “Sorry. But if you can wait until later, you’ll be glad you did.”

Bucky scowled. “Such a fucking tease.”

Steve placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I know. But I don’t want you to be too full for lunch.” He moved to grab his jacket off the back of a chair and Bucky stared at him in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you right now,” Bucky said, shaking his head, but he followed Steve out the door, silently willing his erection away and cursing Steve for making it happen in the first place.

The café on the corner was quiet and they were able to grab a booth next to the window. Steve chatted easily about how he had grown up in Brooklyn and gone to school for art before discovering his love for acting. Bucky couldn’t move his eyes away from the other man’s lips. Their light pink shade, just perfect for kissing, made it impossible to look away, especially when Steve smiled, which was often. To Bucky’s surprise, they had actually grown up very close to each other, but the age difference made it unlikely that they would have ever had contact in school.

Bucky was finally able to look away from Steve’s lips, but only because he started focusing on his eyes instead. The crinkles around them when Steve grinned made Bucky want to put a permanent smile on the man’s face, and he swore that they were bluer than anything he’d ever seen before.

Bucky’s phone chimed in his pocket, but he ignored it. When it chimed again, Steve said, “You can get that. I don’t mind.”

Bucky shook his head. It’s probably Monty, he thought, and whatever it is can wait. “Nah, it’s fine. Probably just my roommate.”

Bucky thought he saw a flash of something like disappointment on Steve’s face, but it was quickly gone.

“Roommate, huh?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, he lowered his voice and quietly said, “I guess we won’t be fucking on your kitchen counter.”

Bucky could feel his face burning red, unable to believe that those words had come out of Steve’s mouth. This is why I’m so damn speechless around him, he thought, trying to say something but failing.

Steve just grinned. “Relax, I’m joking. I mean, not really, but…”

“It’s not a permanent thing,” Bucky blurted, regretting the words before they even left his mouth. But he had to keep going with it. “The roommate, I mean. It was supposed to be a temporary thing. But he’s moving out soon, so…”

Steve nodded. “Well, you’ll have to let me know when he’s gone. In the meantime, we’ll just have to stick to my kitchen.” He winked at Bucky before paying the bill and standing up. “Ready?”

Bucky smiled. He’s thinking about the future. Our future. He wants to be with me. “Absolutely. Where’d you park the time machine?”

Steve grinned back and they left the café. As they walked towards the subway, Bucky felt Steve’s hand brush against his own. He blushed, but didn’t say anything. When it happened a second time, he looked up to see the other man looking amused. Steve intertwined his fingers with Bucky’s, and Bucky couldn’t help but beam up at him.

On the train, Bucky asked, “Since when do big bands play in the park on Mondays?”

“Not usually,” Steve said. “But I know a few guys in this one, and they’re doing a concert this weekend there. Today’s their first rehearsal day. They said I could come listen because I’ll be busy with shows this weekend.”

“Do you dance?” Bucky asked, trying not to imagine Steve swing dancing.

Steve blushed. “I try. I’m not very good at it though.”

“I don’t believe you,” Bucky stated. “Not for a minute.”

“Do you dance?”

“To the newer stuff, sure. You’ll have to teach me the older moves though,” Bucky replied, wanting nothing more than for Steve Rogers to give him a dancing lesson.

“I can try,” Steve said, looking at Bucky from under his eyelashes.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the missing italics... They would have been helpful. But I honestly can't be arsed to fix them now. So my apologies... and also apologies for the feels.

They arrived at Central Park and Bucky followed Steve until they came to a clearing where the band had set up. Steve introduced Bucky to his friends before they started playing, and then looked at Bucky. “Would you like to dance?”

Bucky grinned back and accepted, hardly having time to register Steve’s “follow my lead” before the band began playing “In the Mood.”

Steve grabbed his hands and began with such effortlessness that Bucky found it nearly impossible to keep up. Steve looked so happy, spinning Bucky around and moving his feet faster than anyone had a right to do. Bucky felt awkward at first, but by the time the band had moved on to “Swing, Swing, Swing,” he didn’t care about how he looked. He felt high on Steve, and it was better than being high on anything else. He pulled Steve closer and moved faster, matching his steps and surprising the other man with his enthusiasm. Dancing with Steve just felt right.

“La Vie En Rose” began, replacing the quick music with a slower tune. “Buck,” Steve breathed as they moved, and Bucky could only blush and bury his face in Steve’s shoulder.

I shouldn’t be feeling this, Bucky thought. I haven’t even really known him for 48 hours. I can’t love him. I shouldn’t love him. But damn, he’s just too good not to.

“Buck,” Steve said again, gently lifting Bucky’s face off his shoulder to look at him properly. “Bucky, I…I really don’t know how to say this, actually…”

Bucky furrowed his brow and looked up at him with curious eyes. “Say what, Steve?” he murmured, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice.

Steve pulled their bodies closer, swaying gently in time with the music. “I haven’t… I mean, well, I haven’t exactly been with that many people… but with the ones I have, it’s never felt like this. Bucky, I think I--”

The ringing coming from Bucky’s phone interrupted Steve’s words, and even though it wasn’t too loud over the sound of the band still playing, it was enough to stop Steve. Bucky silently cursed whomever it was calling, and he reached into his pocket to silence it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Steve, really, I’m sorry. Continue.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Steve replied, looking away for a moment. “You should answer it.”

“I don’t want to,” Bucky replied, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“At least see who it is,” Steve sighed, pulling away slightly. “It could be important.”

“I’d rather keep dancing,” Bucky said, but he was already digging the phone out of his pocket. The disappointed look Steve was trying to hide was too much for Bucky. Maybe it would be good to take a short break.

He knew it was Monty before he even looked at the screen, yet it still surprised him when he actually saw the other man’s name appear. He chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment, saying, “I’m sorry” to Steve before answering.

 

“Yes?” he asked, hoping Monty would keep it short.

“James,” Monty started. “Are you busy?”

“A little.”

“What are you doing?”

“Checking out a band,” Bucky replied. “What do you need?”

Monty stumbled over his words for a moment before finally asking, “Do you have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m busy.”

“I was hoping I could maybe give you something, if I won’t see you later today.”

Bucky tried as hard as he could not to roll his eyes. “What is it?”

“Just something that should be yours. I had lunch with a client today, so I’m still out. I was wondering if I could drop it off before I went back to the office. Where are you?”

What the hell? “Um, yeah. Fine. I’m up near your office now, actually. I can come pick whatever it is up in a few minutes.”

“Where are you?” Monty repeated.

“I’m in the park. I’ll meet you--”

“No no no, I’ll come to you. Where are you?”

 

Five minutes later, Bucky was walking towards the street, apologizing profusely to Steve, who only gave a small smile and said that he didn’t mind, as long as he got to spend time with Bucky.

“But really,” Bucky said, “I don’t even know what it is. He said I forgot something at the apartment, but how would he know? He left before I did. And if it’s at the apartment, it meant I wanted it to stay there.”

Steve chuckled at Bucky’s complaining. “Here, I’ll sit here until you’re done,” he said, sitting down on an empty bench.

Bucky could spot Monty approaching, so he nodded. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“James!” Monty called, smiling cheerfully.

Bucky kept his distance, not returning the hug when Monty wrapped his arms around him. “Hey,” he mumbled. “So what did I forget?”

“How was the band?”

“Monty,” Bucky growled. “What. Did. I. Forget?”

Monty’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Bucky’s apparent anger. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said, forcing himself to be calm and sound kinder. “Really, it’s okay.”

Monty smiled again, though he still looked hesitant. “I, uh, I actually wanted to tell you something.”

“And?”

“Well, I know we’ve been together a while. I mean, it’ll be a year in a few days,” Monty said, giving a bashful smile. “And you know how I feel about you. But there’s something I have to say.”

He’s breaking up with me, Bucky thought. Thank god. He’s doing it so I don’t have to. Yes, keep going.

“James, you make me a better person. I love life so much more when I spend it with you.”

What the hell? No, that’s not how you break up with someone. No, stop.

“This past year has been the happiest year of my life. And I know we’ve had our ups and downs, sure. And lately it’s been a down, I know, but I also know that it can get better…”

For me. Sure as hell isn’t going to get better for you.

Monty looked at Bucky with pleading eyes before dropping down to one knee. “I love you, James.”

No. No no no no no no no no no. Stop it. No. Get up. Stand the fuck up. No.

A ring was in his hand, and Monty was smiling up at him like he always did. “James, I love you so much, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you--”

“Shut up,” Bucky snarled, looking around and seeing a few people looking on. He turned around and saw Steve on the bench, but he was too far away to see his expression.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. No. Not Steve. Why does Steve have to be here? Shit shit shit.

Monty shook his head. “I’m not going to shut up. I love you. Will you marry me?”

Bucky’s jaw tensed.  “No. No. No, Monty. I won’t marry you. Get up. Get the fuck up.”

“What…?” Monty slowly stood up, and Bucky tried not to see the pain and confusion in his eyes.

“I won’t marry you. I won’t because… because we can’t be together anymore.”

“What?” Monty’s voice cracked. “Just because you don’t want to get married doesn’t mean that we can’t still be together.”

“No, you’re right,” Bucky said, his voice starting to shake. “But I don’t love you, Monty.”

“What do you mean?” Monty’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I’ve been seeing someone else. I’m in love with someone else.” The words I’m sorry caught in the back of his throat.

Monty tried blinking back tears, chewing on his lip as he tried to find something to say. “I…”

“Don’t,” Bucky said. “Just… don’t.” His jaw tensed as he tried to apologize and failed. He pushed past Monty as a thousand thoughts rushed through his mind. This is what you wanted, remember? This is what needed to happen. But not like this. Not with Steve there. He was never supposed to know. He looked back over his shoulder to see Steve approaching Monty. Bucky started running and didn’t look back.

 

Bucky let his feet take him home through the maze of buildings and traffic as his mind raced over what Steve and Monty could possibly be saying to each other. He imagined Steve being polite and understanding, and that only made it worse because it meant Monty would see right through him. Monty would take one look at his body and just know that Bucky wouldn’t have been strong enough to resist that. He tried to imagine Monty yelling, but he couldn’t. Monty never yelled. He only got quiet, sulky, passive aggressive. Or he could imagine Monty somehow not realizing what was going on between him and Steve, but then Steve would  tell Monty the truth because it’s the right thing to do. He fumbled with the key in the door, finally bursting into the apartment. He looked around, seeing Monty’s things everywhere. His shoes by the door, his cardigan hanging over the back of a chair, his book about WWII special ops on the coffee table. Bucky choked back a sob and stumbled into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and tears ran down his face. His knees began to shake and he braced his arms on the sink.

What have you done? You gave up the best thing that ever happened to you for some guy you’ve known two days? What were you before Monty? Nothing. You were nothing. You were shit. You were less than shit. Monty helped you. He made you better. He was stability. He was safety. And you gave it all up for some star-spangled man. I hope it’s worth it. I hope he doesn’t dump your ass when he realizes what a lying, cheating piece of shit you are. You’re worthless. You didn’t even have the decency to end things with Monty before you fucked Steve. And yeah, you basically threw yourself into Steve’s bed. What kind of person do you think he thinks you are? Certainly not the kind you save.

Bucky sunk slowly to the floor, leaning up against the bathroom wall as sobs shook his body. He couldn’t deny that what he felt for Steve was something unique, beyond simple attraction, lust, or even love. He loved Monty, yet nothing could compare to his feelings for Steve. That’s all lost now, though, he thought. Steve won’t want to even look at you after this.

Somewhere between the overwhelming guilt for what he had done to Monty and the horror of losing Steve, Bucky lost track of time, only snapping out of his thoughts when he heard the apartment door slam shut three hours later. His heart beat faster with every step Monty took deeper into the apartment. He gulped as the footsteps stopped at the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Get up,” Monty said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Get off the fucking floor.”

Bucky looked up at Monty, who looked surprisingly calm as he stood just outside the bathroom. His eyes weren’t red, and his composure was dangerously high.

“Monty, I…”

“Just get off the damn floor,” Monty said, sounding mildly irritated, but not angry. He took a few steps back, allowing Bucky to stand up and step out of the bathroom.

His head was still fuzzy as he stood up, but as soon as he was upright, he felt Monty’s fist connect with his jaw with unexpected force and he was back on the ground.

“You fucking arsehole,” Monty hissed, standing above him. But Bucky could see that the other man was torn between continuing the abuse or kneeling down to apologize. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Monty growled. It was simultaneously the loudest and quietest Bucky had ever heard him. “You couldn’t have told me that you’ve been shagging him? No. You had to wait until after I proposed. And even then, you still didn’t tell me. He did!”

“What did he say?” Bucky managed to croak, pulling himself up into a sitting position on the floor.

“Oh, you want to know what he said? How about we start with what you have to say, so I can watch you lie. Because that’s what you do. You lie. You always have.”

“Monty, you know that’s not true.”

“No?”

“You know I only saw Steve’s show a week and a half ago.”

“So you’ve been fucking him for a week and a half?” Contempt flickered in Monty’s eyes.

“No,” Bucky sighed. “No. But I… I thought… the first time I saw him, I knew he was someone I wanted to get to know better.”

“You mean fuck,’” Monty spat.

Bucky tried taking deep breath. “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes. But not just that. I just wanted to spend time with him. But I never actually saw him after the show until two days ago.”

“And then what happened?” Monty said, faking enthusiasm.

“We went out for drinks,” Bucky said. “And then we went back to his place. And yes. We had sex. And I’m not sorry that it happened but I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before it happened.”

“So you had sex with him,” Monty said causally. Bucky nodded. “And then,” Monty started, his voice growing more venomous with every word, “you came home the very next morning, pretended everything was fine, and fucked me.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

Monty just shook his head. “You disgust me,” he said. “I’ll move my things out of here as soon as possible, but until then, you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

Bucky didn’t acknowledge him, but rather stared straight ahead, thinking of what he could possibly say to Steve to fix this. As Monty walked into the bedroom to begin packing, Bucky’s phone chimed in his pocket. A text from Steve. Are you okay? We should talk. Bucky gripped the phone tightly before finally typing out a reply. I’ll be okay. He slowly got to his feet and stumbled over to the couch, curling up into a small ball. Come over tonight? Figured you might want to be out of your place, Steve texted back. Bucky bit his lip. Steve didn’t sound angry, and it worried him. What did I do to deserve forgiveness?

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. You're all wonderful.

Steve Rogers was rather a wreck. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen, and his heart pounded in his chest as he watched Bucky run away. Still, he knew he couldn’t be as much of a wreck as the man frozen on the sidewalk in front of him. He yearned to go after Bucky, but both he and this stranger needed answers.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, approaching the tall, thin man who, minutes before, had been dressed to the nines. Now, he looked small, fragile: the braces against his shirt seemed to be the only thing holding him together. The man looked up and Steve watched his expression change in one moment from shame to annoyance, recognition, confusion, realization, anger, and embarrassment.

Monty slipped the ring back into his pocket, biting his lip a moment before saying, “I would tell you that he is a huge fan, but I’m guessing he’s probably already told you himself.”

Steve winced. “Yeah, he mentioned it.” The man’s composure was intimidating, though Steve was impressed that he managed to sound so put together after a moment like that.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, holding out his hand. The man looked at it with what Steve believed to be confusion before softening his expression and shaking it.

“Montgomery Falsworth,” he said. “But you might as well call me Monty. Everyone does.”

Up close, Steve noticed just how attractive Monty was. He had sharp cheekbones but a soft expression, one that could not hold anger for long. And though his eyes were red, he kept his head up high and let no tears fall.

“You’re not the roommate?” Steve asked, though it didn’t sound like a question.

Monty cleared his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“Bucky said that his roommate was going to meet him here. But you’re more than that.”

“No,” Monty said, lowering his gaze. “Not anymore, it would seem.” His accent was sharpened with contempt.

With every word Monty said, Steve felt exponentially more guilty. Still, he had questions and only Monty had the answers.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“Wait,” Steve said. “No, you don’t.” Monty looked at him questioningly, and for a moment Steve saw poison in his eyes. “You don’t have to go to work. No one goes back to work right after a proposal. You were planning on taking the afternoon off.”

Monty exhaled sharply. “Yes, well. Not everything goes according to plan.”

“But you’re not going back?”

“No,” Monty said, “I suppose I’m not.”

They began walking along the edge of the park and Steve had to restrain himself from asking every question he could think of about Bucky.

“How long have you two been together?”

Monty lowered his gaze. “It would have been a year this week.”

If there were any words that could make Steve feel still more guilty, those were it. “I’m so sorry.”

Monty looked up at him, and Steve couldn’t read his expression.

“Don’t be,” he said.

“What?”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Monty replied. “I’m sure he didn’t inform you of his existing… relationship. And how else should you have known?”

“I could have asked,” Steve said, regretting how stupid his voice sounded at the moment.

“Oh please,” Monty said, rolling his eyes. He was upset, but Steve thought he saw a hint of a smile on the corner of the man’s mouth. “When someone like James is all but throwing himself into your lap... when he’s looking up at you with those dangerously dark eyes and the filthiest words you’ve ever head are just spilling out of his mouth… when you get him home and he’s absolutely gagging for it… you wouldn’t turn him away.”

Steve’s face was burning red. He couldn’t believe what this man was saying, never mind how he was saying them so matter-of-factly. “James?"

Monty smiled sadly. “His real name.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not wrong though,” Monty said. “You did have sex.”

Steve stuttered. “Yeah, but I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have…”

“Please.” Steve couldn’t comprehend how calm Monty sounded. “It’s not you I’m disappointed in, Steve.”

“I want you to know that I wouldn’t have…I mean… I wouldn’t have done it if I knew…”

Monty looked Steve in the eyes, and for the first time, Steve didn’t see any resentment. “Yes. Yes, I know. Now I’m afraid I really must be going. It would appear that I’m moving house.”

In that moment, Steve didn’t want Monty to leave. He wanted to know more about him, more about Bucky. But the way Monty said it told Steve that he wasn’t just moving across town. “Where are you going?”

“An old friend of mine rang me last week and offered me a job at his publishing house in London.”

“And you told him yes? Last week?”

“No,” Monty said, “No, I told him I would think about it. James had been acting strangely for a few days, which must have been why I didn’t say no. It should be good to go back, I would imagine. James was the only one keeping me here.” He frowned, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment. “I trust you’ll take good care of him?”

 

 

\-------------------

 

Monty was reading a book in the living room, his feet propped up and a cup of tea beside him. Bucky smiled at his argyle socks. Everything was as it should have been. Except that the mug wasn’t Monty’s, it was his own. And his feet weren’t propped on the coffee table, instead they were draped lightly over the arm of the sofa. The coffee table, like the rest of Monty’s things, had been moved yesterday. Only one suitcase remained by the door, a cardigan and his messenger bag resting on top of it. Monty’s phone chimed, and he stood up, closing the book with a quiet snap and bringing his cup to the sink.

“My taxi is here,” he said musingly, as if he were commenting on the weather. He slipped easily into his cardigan and put his book into the bag. Turning to face Bucky, he smiled, and it was all Bucky could do to hold back the tears.

“I’ve had a grand time, darling, I want you to know that,” he said, and that was when Bucky snapped. The tears rolled down his face and he sniffed, chiding himself for being so pathetic when this was his fault.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked.

“We’ve been over this before, James, and we’re not doing it again.” He moved closer to Bucky, frowning only ever so slightly. “I’m afraid we’ve quite run out of time, my dear.” His hand gently touched Bucky’s cheek before pulling away. Before Bucky could reply, Monty was down the stairs and climbing into the awaiting cab.

 

\-------------------

 

When Bucky stepped out of the shower, he thought he could hear the kettle going in the kitchen. He smiled for a brief moment as he remembered when Monty had moved in with him a few months ago and, appalled to find Bucky didn’t own one, took him out to lunch and bought him a kettle that very afternoon. But his smile quickly disappeared as he thought of how recently that seemed, and the turn of events that had happened since. There was no kettle in the kitchen, not anymore. Monty had moved back to London a week ago, and the apartment was empty. Sometimes he thought it was all a dream, meeting Steve. Other times, it was a nightmare in which both Monty and Steve disappeared. Neither would want him... why would they? He remembered the evening Monty had come home after proposing, and he remembered the feel of Monty’s fist against his jaw. Bucky had wanted to be hit again. He remembered thinking, it’s not enough.

Monty had been furious, though Bucky knew he would never show it all. He had gone to Steve’s shortly after that, avoiding eye contact with Monty on his way out. Steve had let him in wordlessly, enveloping him into a hug once the door was shut. Bucky couldn’t help but break down.

After the tears had stopped, Steve started asking questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you love him? Do you really want to give up something like that? For me? Why me? I’ve only known you three days… are you sure?”

Bucky dutifully answered each one in turn, tried explaining how Monty had been a point of security at a rough time, but that he had never felt as strongly for him as he did for Steve. “With you, I just know.”

Steve hadn’t been entirely convinced, but he listened patiently the whole time, his arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. “Bucky, I want you to know that I return all of these feelings. Every single one of them and more. I just… I wish you would have told me… I would have waited until you sorted things out with him. I would have waited for you.”

Bucky had stared at the floor. “I know I should have, I know. But I wasn’t doing it to be sneaky. To lie. To cheat. I didn’t mean to. I just.... I fell for you so hard, so quickly, Steve.... my heart was yours before my brain even realized what was happening. And I couldn’t just go home and end things with Monty after seeing you on stage once. I had to meet you. I had to get to know you….” His voice turned to a whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt him. But I had to.”

“I know, I know. But he had to know the truth. You had to tell him sometime.” Steve sighed. “He’s a good guy, and he loves you. And the best thing for him was to know the truth.”

“I’m just scared,” Bucky had admitted. “I’m scared that you won’t want someone like me and that I’ll regret ever letting him go because he was the only one that would have me.”

Steve frowned. “Buck, I can’t promise that things are going to work out perfectly for us. As much as I’d like to say I can promise a happy ending, I have no idea. But I want things to work. I want to learn everything I can about you.”

Bucky looked up at him. “Really?”

Steve smiled and nodded, taking Bucky’s hands in his own. “Really, Buck. I mean it. I’m with you til the end of the line.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is much appreciated (constructive would be nice, but at this point I think my dissertation has made me cry enough so there won't be any tears left if it's not). Sorry for all the feels... I just had to get them out somehow :) I might revise the end at a later date, but I'll probably be doing minor line edits until then. And as always, thanks for sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this got completely out of hand. I started it a year ago wanting it to be a short little thing, abandoned it nine months ago, and came back to it yesterday. My Monty feels got away from me a little bit, especially after I started imagining him to be a combination between MCU Monty and Matthew Goode's character from A Single Man. I'm not sorry. Feedback is always appreciated, and find me on tumblr if you'd like. I'm Thefoxinthesweater there too (fair warning: it's 99% Kingsman feels at the moment). Thanks for reading!


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